


Four

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Child Abandonment, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Near homophobic slur watch out my guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He didn't mean it.
Relationships: Josh Dun & Tyler Joseph, Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Four

**Author's Note:**

> Tw for child abuse, near homophobic slur, self hatred, and the other usual TOP angst stuff. This is me procrastinating other works! Also I feed on comments like a cave creature

If he stops walking now, he'll never get back up again.

Four words. Four words was all it took to have his parents throwing his teenage ass out of their house, out of his home.

He never meant it, he doesn’t think so now, at least. He's lying to himself, but it’s true. He never meant it. He never meant to have his brother cowering on the landing away from the yelling.

He certainly never meant to make his sister cry by antagonizing his parents. His parents- he never meant to make them so mad.

He never meant to be out here, trudging through four-inch snow.

They gave him no time to grab a coat, he'd shakingly wrestled on some boots before his dad shoved him by the scruff and slammed the door shut behind him.

The night air shook his hand in a polite death grip, and he remembered the smiling forecaster predicting temperatures below 10 degrees. Tyler sat down on the cold concrete, letting his head fall back against the siding.

Four minutes. That’s how long he sat on the porch waiting for his mom to let him back in. Tyler'd learned his lesson by now, he never meant it. And his mother had to know that. She's the one who brought it up in the first place. He'd never bring it up again after they let him back in.

Four minutes came, and four minutes went, and the door was still locked. His hands protested jiggling the frozen handle. Mom had never made him wait this long to be let back in. He counted the seconds in his head, crippling dread spiderwebbing down his spine and pooling ice water in his stomach. Tyler heard a click and the porch light flicked off.

The oak tree across the street wept ice.

Leaning towards the window, he rubbed the condensation away and stood on his tiptoes to see through the blinds. A second later, and the golden light shining through there dimmed as well.

He raised his fist to knock on the door, hesitating before rapping it as gently as possible. No response. He opened the screen door and knocked lightly on the solid metal past it. Still nothing. Tyler choked back something pitiful and hovered his hand over the doorbell, then yanked his hand back and turned around.

The snow crunched under his boots and his hands were tingling, shoved under his armpits with his arms crossed tightly. He dragged his feet all the way to the backdoor. Reluctantly reaching out, he tried the handle. Locked.

Just when he was about to start panicking, Tyler sensed movement, and snapped his head upwards. The lights still on upstairs cast shadows on the white snow below. No person appeared in the window, but a snowflake drifted down. Then another. Then another.

His nose started running along with his eyes, but he didn’t mean that, either.

His chill had graduated to sporadic shivers that chattered his teeth and wracked his body and he knew he wasn’t going to be let in tonight.

The light upstairs went off and Tyler stared for a bit more, then retraced his bootprints back to the porch, then down the driveway, then to the snow-covered sidewalk.

Snowflakes danced down in the light of a streetlamp. Tyler picked a direction, and started to move.

They left him out there. _He didn’t mean it._ They don’t want him anymore. _He didn’t mean it._ He doesn’t blame them for not wanting to deal with all his problems, especially not this one.

But, he didn’t mean it. Please, God, _he didn’t mean it._

Tyler can’t feel his toes. He should really go to one of the neighbors' houses and ask for sanctuary, just for the night, until his parents calm down and let him explain himself. But it’s a Sunday, and it has to be 11 ‘o clock by now, and he can’t shiver away the feeling that he deserves this.

His parents know what’s best, right? They’re just teaching him not to do it again- to say such stupid things.

He can’t bother other people too.

The snow is falling harder, but he can’t stop his own inexorable trudging. Snowflakes catch on his eyelashes and burn through his shoulders. He can’t stop though. If he stops now, he'll never get up again.

Between his teeth chattering and his ears ringing his mind runs away from him, spitting insults at his psyche as it goes.

_You deserve this. You deserve to be out here. You deserve to be alone. Have you noticed that whenever there’s a problem in this family, you’re always, always the root of it? Overdramatic. Useless. Can’t play basketball worth a damn, no wonder your family threw you out, fa-_

He shook his head violently and a wave of dizziness overcame him. Dazed, he tripped and landed face first in the snow, hands reaching out to break his fall.

The slush clung to his thin shirt and dress pants, the cold stunning him for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to summon the strength to get up again. Getting back up was truly a challenge when his hands were completely numb.

He was about four blocks away from home. It took a few minutes for him to rise to his feet, but he only made it a couple more paces before he tripped again, and this time, he didn’t have the energy to push himself up. Snow had found its way inside his boots, freezing away the last of motion in his feet. Instead, he curled up tight into the fetal position, sobs hitching in his throat.

_Maybe it’s a fucking good thing they threw you out. You did always say how much you wanted to die._

He doesn’t want to die.

_Overdramatic._

Snow digs into his shirt and skin from below, snowflakes stab him from above, his brain keeps trying to kill itself anyway, and with a full sob the floodgates break.

He didn’t mean it! For fuck's sake he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it, _he didn’t mean it,_ and his brain won’t shut up and it will _never_ shut up and he’s never felt so cold or scared or unwanted before. Not even when he told his parents he wanted to pursue music instead of sports. Not even when he told them he wanted to start a band. Not even the few hours ago when he told them…

_Of course you meant it._

He's breathing heavy trying to stop the tears. How long has he been out here? Are his siblings worried? Did his mom ever come to open the door? His throat’s painfully cold and his body’s no better.

But at least he’s stopped shivering.

He can’t feel his legs or arms or face and it feels almost like he’s being wiped away, like what he thinks of himself is becoming his actual form. The thought of a giant eraser scribbling him away circles in his head until he realizes how hot he feels. A dim part of his brain is panicking at that, but he doesn’t want to panic anymore, so he doesn’t react to his heart kicking into overdrive in his chest. The urge worsens but he doesn’t have the energy.

In fact, if he closes his eyes he can imagine that it’s just been a long day at school. He's gotten A’s on all his assignments and he’s made all his baskets and his parents are happy with him. He and his siblings smile and joke and don’t walk on eggshells and he's gotten all the notes down for that new song he's been working on. Now it’s time for bed. He's drifting away with the snowflakes.

“Oh, fuck, holy-“

Someone is jostling his shoulder under the covers and distantly shouting in his ear. His alarm clock hasn’t gone off yet, though, so he can probably sneak in a few more minutes. He's so tired.

Tyler wakes up on a couch. His head is pounding and pins and needles stab into him everywhere. He groans and shifts uncomfortably under an ungodly amount of blankets and warm water bottles.

When he whines from a particularly painful spasm, he hears scrabbling in the other room, and a concerned face appears around the corner. A boy, about the same age as him, with dark curls and piercings is staring like he’s just come back from the dead. Come to think of it, he probably has.

The boy scrubs a hand over his face and locks eyes with Tyler. He holds up his hand with pinched fingers.

“Dude, I was this close to calling 911. _This close._ My parents are out and I didn’t want the neighbors calling them about an ambulance at our house so I didn’t but I was seriously this close.”

A window shows that it’s morning. Tyler’s gaze flicks back to the boy and the boy stares back, a hand over his mouth. His eyes are glassy.

“I thought you were _dead_.”

He scrubs his face again and sniffs. Tyler is still in pain, but he manages to speak.

“What were y'doing outside?”

“I should be asking you that, dude.”

Tyler makes what he hopes is an unimpressed expression. The other boy relents.

“Don’t laugh okay. I couldn’t sleep so I was gonna go make a snowman- hey I said don’t laugh!”

Tyler can’t help it. He’s smiling like crazy.

“Okay, fine, keep laughing, you don’t get any hot chocolate.”

“I don’t even know your name, why would I want your hot chocolate?” Tyler winces as he moves to sit up, joints aching, but slowly getting better.

“’cause I make the best hot chocolate, duh. Dun family secret recipe. My name’s Josh, by the way. Sorry, should have started out with that.”

“Tyler.”

Josh rubbed his eye one last time and smiled wide.

“Salutations.”

Four hours later, Josh's parents came home.

Four weeks later, and the legal matters had been settled.

Four months later, the demons grew mad again and Tyler told Josh the same four words he told his parents.

He deserved Josh’s scorn, he expected it and accepted it. Josh didn’t kick him out. He didn’t yell at him or anything. The hugs and the words of acceptance were a welcome surprise, though. So was the shocked disappointment of the demons.

Four years later, the two played a sold out show in New York.

Tyler kissed Josh on the cheek and Josh laughed, cheers drowning out cold voices in his head.

He kissed Josh again.

He meant it.


End file.
